


Comfort of Darkness

by GingerSnapped16



Category: Original Work
Genre: Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerSnapped16/pseuds/GingerSnapped16
Summary: I like the dark, it's quiet and calm. Peaceful.I feel like I'm being watched. 'That's silly. It's nothing, you're just being paranoid.'
Kudos: 1





	Comfort of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Stick with me here, I'm new to this site and the formatting so I have no clue how this is going to turn out. If it doesn't come out right I'll try fixing it and posting it again.

It’s almost 3:00am as the credits roll and I turn off the TV to head downstairs, flicking off the light as I go. I head for my room but stop as I pass my parents room, I sigh as I turn off their own TV as they sleep. The house goes dark, and I continue down the hall to my room in the basement. It’s the largest in the house, but despite that no one else wanted it. My parents claimed it was too cold down there, plus, they didn’t want to walk up stairs in the middle of the night. My younger brother said he didn’t like the basement. We don’t know why he avoids it so much, every time we ask all we get is a mumbled answer. Once I heard him mutter something about ghosts. He’s ridiculous, there’s no such thing. He’ll do anything to avoid it. When he can’t, he turns on the light, in the middle of the day, and runs down and back up as fast a he can. He’s brutal; _ghosts don’t exist._  
I stop at the front door and lock it, then go over to the backdoor and lock that too; quietly placing the piece of wood behind the sliding door. I stand there looking up at the night sky, through the window. I like the dark, it’s quiet and calm; comforting. Peaceful.  
I don’t bother with a light and make my way to the basement stairs, pausing for a moment to feel for the edge of the first step with my foot. I continue down the stairs and pause again as my feet touch the carpet. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness of the basement. The outline of my door is barely visible; just a shade or two darker than the wall. It’s more than enough for me. The doorway is just faintly outlined by the dim, green light coming from the dehumidifier. As I start towards my room, I begin to feel like I’m being watched. _That’s silly, it’s nothing, you’re just being paranoid._  
A shudder goes down my spine, and suddenly the door feels miles away. The shadows feel like they’re getting darker behind me. _It’s nothing, you’re just being paranoid. Go to bed, there’s nothing wrong. Just don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook. Just. Keep. Moving._  
My leisurely walk speeds up. _It’s nothing, you’re just being paranoid… right?_ Another shudder and my heart skips a beat. _You’re fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine; go to bed, you’re just tired. There’s nothing in the house, you’re being paranoid._ I keep walking, ignoring the way my stomach drops. _It’s nothing_ , I repeat, like a mantra.  
The feeling doesn’t go away like it should, if anything, it’s worse. I fight the urge to turn around, after all; _there’s nothing there, I’m the only one awake. Don’t look back; there’s no point, there’s nothing there. You’re just being paranoid._ I’m halfway to the door.  
I pause and it feels like I’ve been doused in ice water, and the ominous feeling grows. _Don’t look back. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look._ My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. Maybe my brother was right, maybe there is something down here. _Don’t turn around. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook._ I lose. _Don’t turn around. Don’t do it. don’t do it. Please, don’t do it. No. Stop! What are you doing?_ I start turning, my heart beating erratically. _Don’t do it. Don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit. Don’t. Do. It._ My heart stops.  
“No.”

It’s not a ghost.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is just a short story I wrote for one of my take-home exams last year, and my room mate told me I should share it. So... Yeah. Here we are.
> 
> If you want, tell me how it goes.


End file.
